He patted her hand. “I remain dubious.”
For all of her protests, Jane found that she leaned upon Vincent’s arm more than she had intended. By the time they reached the palm trees, she was deeply grateful for the shade and did not protest that she was well. They stood at the edge of the grove, looking around them for anyone who might notice them appear. The road was thankfully empty. Nevertheless, Vincent wove a Sphère Obscurcie around them after they had settled under one of the trees.
Jane abandoned all dignity and lay down with a groan. “I am terribly sorry, but I suspect I shall have to stop more often than I would like.”
Brushing a sweat-damp strand of hair from her cheek, Vincent frowned. “Are you certain you are equal to this?”
“Equal, yes. Pleased, no.” She caught his hand and kissed it. “Only give me a quarter hour to cool myself and we can begin again.”
*
As promised, a quarter hour’s time restored much of Jane’s spirits. When they set off, the sun did not seem as oppressively hot as it had previously. A gentle breeze stirred the air and gave surprising relief. Jane reminded Vincent that she had also been walking with Louisa before they reached the orange grove, so she had really gone farther than he thought before wanting a rest. This seemed to prove true as they continued on. Aside from stepping off the road once when a carriage passed, and a second time to make way for a gang of enslaved Africans on their way from one field to another, they made good time down the hill.
At the base of the hill, however, they lost the breeze. With each step, Jane felt heavier. The air burnt her lungs. She took Vincent’s arm when offered and leaned upon him. Her back ached, and her stomach felt uneasy. One part of her consciousness was turned inward, feeling for any signs of distress. Each flutter of movement from the baby assured her, but still her pace lagged as they went, and they had not even reached the Greycroft property line yet.
At last, Vincent stopped and wove a sphere of silence around them. Until the world quieted, Jane did not recognise that she had been hearing voices. Rubbing the sweat from her brow, she lifted her head. Cane fields surrounded them.
On the left side of the road, a group of field slaves worked. Sweat gleamed on the bare shoulders of the men and stuck the dresses of the women to their bodies.
Vincent indicated a tamarind tree by the side of the road. “It is not ideal, but I see no other opportunity for some distance. Shall we stop?”
“Please, yes.”
He pressed her hand where it held his arm, and undid the silence surrounding them.
Vincent directed her to the tree and wove a Sphère Obscurcie to mask them in the shade, followed by a silence. Jane dropped heavily to sit in the tree’s shadow. Scant though it was, she welcomed the break from the direct sun. Across the road, men and women worked in the full sun. Surely, she could tolerate sitting in the shade.
Vincent stood over her, frowning. “Should we turn back?”
“And climb that hill? Absolutely not.” Jane rubbed her stomach, which seemed to have grown just on their walk. The skin was tight and itched as sweat rolled down it.
“Is anything hurti—”
“I am perfectly well, Vincent.” Her voice was more cutting than she had intended. In truth, he looked to be in little better shape than she. Sweat dotted his brow, and his cravat had wilted into a sad knot. Jane drew her knees up, though she had to spread them wider than was modest to accommodate her stomach. She rested her arms upon her knees and let her head drop forward to rest with a sigh. If she had reckoned on how much hotter it would be without the parasol, Jane would have asked Louisa to bring two bottles of the lime juice. Her stomach was a little uneasy, and some lime juice would have settled it. “I am only hot. Give me a quarter hour and I shall be refreshed.”
“Of course.” The brittle grass crackled as he settled beside her. “Take all the time you need.”
With her eyes closed, Jane could pretend it was cooler. If she could only sit here for a few minutes, then she would be equal to another half hour of walking. Jane concentrated on her heart and her breathing, trying to slow both, as she would if she were working glamour. Slow, deep breaths would cool her quickest.
Beside her, Vincent sucked in a sharp breath. In the glamoured silence, the fabric of his clothing hissed as he rose quickly.
“Vincent?” She lifted her head.